


it started like this

by sky_somedays



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insecure Shane, M/M, Repressed Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_somedays/pseuds/sky_somedays
Summary: Shane thinks that if he can just pin downwhenit started, maybe he can do something about it. Think himself out of it, somehow. Understand the problem to solve the problem.(He tries not to think about what, exactly, the problem is.)





	it started like this

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It started like this.

Ryan shotgunning a beer on a dare. They were at some house party, a co-worker’s friend’s friend’s place, ugly LA wealth. Someone started asking Ryan about his frat years and before Shane knew what was happening, someone was pushing a set of keys and a Corona into Ryan’s hands. “I’m out of practice,” Ryan joked, but he did it anyway. Wiped his mouth on his forearm after.

Or maybe it didn’t. 

Maybe it started back when they were interns and Ryan got sent on a coffee run and, when he returned, handed Shane a frozen lemonade. He’d wedged it in the breast pocket of his button down because his hands were full of all the senior producer’s complicated Starbucks orders. 

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Shane said, nonplussed. 

And Ryan just answered: “you can owe me, big guy.”

Or maybe not even then. Maybe it started on Shane’s very first day at the office, when he had been shown his desk and Ryan had spun his chair around dramatically, the momentum yanking his headphones off. Shane tried to introduce himself but was laughing too hard.

Shane thinks that if he can just pin down _when_ it started, maybe he can do something about it. Think himself out of it, somehow. Understand the problem to solve the problem. 

(He tries not to think about what, exactly, the problem is.)

 

*

 

Ryan’s got stubble. 

He’s had it for a few days. Shane can’t stop looking at it, it’s distracting, it’s impacting his productivity. It’s fucking with his day, every day that Ryan shows up to work with it.

“You should shave,” Shane tells him on the fourth day. He can’t handle it anymore.

Ryan cracks one headphone, leans closer. “What?” He smells like sweat from his morning run, and the soap from the office bathrooms.

Shane’s brain can’t keep up. “Did you have a sink shower here?”

“What? I didn’t hear you the first time.”

“Nothing,” Shane says, and tries to go back to work. This is a problem.

(He doesn’t think about it.)

 

*

 

Unsolved makes it better, for a while.

They’re both so busy with the momentum and success that everything compartmentalizes in Shane’s brain. There’s them on the show; on the road, in the sound booth, filming the post-mortems, always slightly _different_. Themselves, but bigger. And then there’s them in the office, making jokes about the daily grind and cameoing in their friends’ projects and seeing who can eat more popcorn in one sitting. Things are subtler.

Still. It doesn’t _always_ help. 

“Want to hang out at my place while I edit this script?” Ryan asks one evening as they pack up for the day. “I’ve got half a burrito with your name on it.”

Shane wonders which version of him answers. “You know I can’t resist your leftovers.”

At Ryan’s apartment, he lounges on a beanbag chair and scrolls through his phone while Ryan works. Ryan has changed into sweats and put his glasses on. Shane usually only sees him like this when they’re on location. He isn’t sure which version of Ryan he’s looking at. Is he looking at the Ryan that tucks himself under Shane’s arm when he’s scared at night, or the Ryan that beat him at arm wrestling that morning? Are they the same person?

Ryan takes his headphones off after a while, stretches – his shirt rides up, Shane catches a glimpse of his bellybutton – and says: “Want to read it?”

Shane blinks. “Really? I never read the scripts before we film.”

“So?” 

“That’s the whole schtick. Me not knowing what’s coming.”

“Maybe I’m over the schtick.” 

Shane thinks maybe Ryan is watching him as he says that. He doesn’t trust himself to check. “Alright,” he says, extends a hand. “Pass it over. Am I allowed to make edits?”

“Hey, keep your paws off my work.”

Shane settles in, begins to read. “You know I can hear your voice in my head while I’m reading this.”

Ryan lights up, he just glows. “Dude, really?”

“Yep. Your mispronunciations and everything.” 

“Fuck you.” It’s Unsolved Ryan that’s looking at him, Shane can tell.

(He doesn’t ask to sleep over. He’s proud of that.)

 

*

 

They’re filming in a supposedly haunted hotel and someone mistakes them for a couple.

Shane’s honestly surprised it hasn’t happened before now. They squabble like they’re a couple, or so Shane’s been told. He gently corrects their tour guide. Tries to forget about it. 

Later that night, curled up on the floor and trying to go to sleep, Ryan whispers: “Weird how she thought we were _boyfriends_.”

Shane swallows. “Yeah. Kooky.”

“I mean we hadn’t even told her we were sleeping in here together.”

Shane doesn’t know what to say. He closes his eyes, tries to pretend he’s sleeping.

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice is louder than before. Has he shuffled closer?

“Mm?”

“Did it bother you?”

“Someone thinking we’re dating? No.” Shane pauses. “Did it bother you?”

“No. I wanted to play along, actually, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Play along –?”

“Yeah, like do a bit. Like hold your hand and stuff. But I didn’t want to make it weird and I didn’t have time to check with you.”

Shane blinks a few times, glad of the dark. “Oh.”

“Would that have been cool?”

“Yeah,” Shane hears himself say. _And stuff_ rolls around in his head.

(He doesn’t get any sleep.)

 

*

 

Ruining History makes it better, for a while.

Shane’s gotten so used to playing second fiddle to Ryan, his foil, latter half of a duo, that this – this thing that’s _his_ , all his – is grounding. He starts biking to work and stops drinking so much coffee and it feels a little like a new start.

It doesn’t last. Making Ryan a permanent panellist seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Shane wonders if it wasn’t just another move in the masochistic game of chicken he’s playing with himself.

“Dude,” Ryan says, cornering Shane at his desk bright and early on a Tuesday, “I’ve got _so_ many ideas for Ruining History!” He’s got a literal stack of papers under one arm and he shakes them for emphasis. “I took a break from Unsolved stuff and started researching weird history facts and I know you hate _reading_ so I did a bunch of work for you!”

“I don’t hate reading,” Shane says, blinking up at Ryan. He’s always unnerved when their roles are reversed and it’s Ryan that’s looking down on him.

Ryan drops into his chair, ignoring Shane. “So I organized them by date range – I used the colour tabs.” He looks proud of himself. Proud and a little jittery.

“How many coffees have you had this morning, buddy?” Shane pitches his voice low and even, designed not to spook.

“I don’t know – much? Much coffee?” Ryan pauses, eyes wide, as he considers this self-posed not-question. “Yes.”

“Alright then.” Shane pulls the stack of papers toward him and leafs through it. “This looks good. The parts of it that are actual research, anyway. It looks like you were dabbling in some abstract art here. And – is that _poetry_?”

Ryan leans over, blasting coffee breath right into Shane’s face with no remorse. “I was trying to write a perfect haiku. I’m always a syllable short.”

“You failed,” Shane says. “These are literally all about ghosts – I thought you were taking a break from Unsolved?”

“Always got ghosts on the brain,” Ryan says, like that’s a normal thing to admit, and Shane is absolutely _charmed_. “So. Will you use these?” He slaps a hand down onto the papers.

“I always appreciate free labour,” Shane says. “You didn’t have to do this, though, Ry.”

“I wanted to help. You do so much for Unsolved, I wanted to like – repay you, or something.”

Shane is saved from responding by someone calling Ryan’s name from across the office. The moment evaporates.

(He uses nearly all of Ryan’s ideas.)

 

*

 

It started like this.

Ryan wrapped his arm around Shane as they huddled next to each other in sleeping bags.

And Shane asked: “Won’t your arm get cold?”

And Ryan answered: “I don’t care.”

Or maybe it didn’t.

Maybe it started when the crew turned in for the night after a day of filming and Ryan suggested they go to the hotel bar instead. He bought them a round, ordered for Shane, natural, leaning on the bar. He paid and said “keep the change” and Shane had to really stare at his beer, for some reason. He could feel Ryan’s foot under the table when they sat down.

Or maybe not even then.

Maybe it started when they were playing truth or dare with people from work, a funny idea at first, suddenly not so funny when Ryan picked truth and someone asked if he’d ever hooked up with one of his frat buddies. Ryan didn’t even pause – “of course!” – and the game went on. Shane excused himself before it was his turn. At home later, he tried not to think about it.

(He thought Ryan had looked at him when he answered.)

 

*

 

They go to theme parks way too much.

Ryan’s obsessed. Shane would be lying if he said he didn’t also enjoy it, but mostly he enjoys watching Ryan’s excitement. He never tires of rides, or theme park food, or taking selfies in front of signs.

They go with groups of friends, mostly, but then they start going just the two of them sometimes, and – it isn’t good for Shane.

“Wanna go on a date?” Ryan asks him one afternoon, head lolling against the back of his chair, bored. “This weekend? Hit up some rides, eat some burgs.”

And Shane says “of course,” because what else would he say? _Don’t call it a date_? _Stop fucking with my head_?

They go. It’s fun. Shane keeps his hands tucked into his pockets for most of it, worried he will find himself holding Ryan’s hand if he’s not careful.

“Did you have a good time?” Ryan asks as the day is winding down. He’s got mustard on his chin, it’s been there for the better part of the afternoon. Shane’s got a bet with himself and a few thousand Instagram followers that Ryan won’t notice until they leave.

“The best,” Shane says – it slips out before he can stop it, distracted by Ryan’s chin and how close they are to the exit.

Ryan stops. He’s smiling. “Really?”

“Yeah, man, it was fun. We always have fun.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, and he takes hold of the front of Shane’s shirt, pulls him down a few inches, and kisses him.

It’s quick, and when it’s over Ryan just stands there, mustard on his chin, hand still curled around Shane’s shirt.

“Was that okay?” Ryan asks, and his eyes are so sincere as they search Shane’s face that Shane reaches forward this time, cups a hand around the back of Ryan’s head and kisses him.

“Yes,” Shane says, belatedly and possibly a little breathlessly. “That was okay.”

Ryan’s grinning, his nose scrunched up like it is when he’s about to break into laughter. Just on the edge of something like hysteria. “Fuck. I kissed you.”

“No take-backsies,” Shane says, utterly unable to stop himself.

Ryan guffaws. “Take-back –? Jesus Christ, dude, I didn’t do it by accident, I didn’t trip into your face – it’s a mile too high for that.” He pauses. “Wait, why do you think –?”

“I don’t know.” Shane throws his hands up. “Maybe you made a mistake.”

“A mistake –?”

“Yeah, like maybe you regret it or something.”

“Do _you_ regret it?”

“ _No_ , I don’t, but you might –”

“I don’t!”

They’re moments away from full on yelling at each other now, not twenty feet from the exit. Shane palms at his forehead, trying to knead some calm and common sense into his own skull.

“Okay,” Ryan says, eventually, “should we go?”

Shane shrugs. “Sure.”

They head back to Ryan’s car. The air between them holds a weird energy, not quite uncomfortable.

“You’ve got mustard on your chin,” Shane tells him when they’ve buckled in. “I win.”

Ryan inspects his face in the mirror. “You’re a real weird guy, Shane.” His voice sounds way fonder than it has any right to be.

(Shane never does update his Instagram followers.

 

*

 

It starts like this.

Ryan shows up on Shane’s doorstep one morning. He has obviously just been on his morning run, sweating and panting when Shane opens the door.

“G’morning,” he says as he steps inside. He toes off his shoes and immediately goes and sticks his head under the faucet in the kitchen.

Shane just woke up. This is a lot to take in. “Hi to you too.”

“So,” Ryan says, hopping up onto the counter, hair dripping everywhere. “We should talk.”

Shane is suddenly aware that he’s in pyjama pants and no shirt. His arms are crossed, suddenly. “About what?”

“We kissed last week and then haven’t mentioned it since and it’s literally all I can think about.” He says it so matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” Shane leans against the counter that’s furthest away from Ryan. He can’t bring himself to meet Ryan’s eyes so he stares at his knees instead.

“Are you staring at my dick?”

Shane chokes. “What –? No!”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “See? This is what I’m talking about. You’re so – so _jumpy_ , like you don’t even joke around with me anymore.”

“I don’t think there’s anything funny about this,” Shane snaps, and, oh. There it is.

It’s silent for a moment. Ryan kicks his socked heels against Shane’s cupboard doors and Shane has to bite his tongue to prevent _stop banging your feet on my cupboards_ from escaping. He feels old.

“It doesn’t have to be funny,” Ryan says after a while. “It’s not a joke to me. You’re not a joke to me.”

Something eases in Shane’s chest, a knot he didn’t even realize was there.

“I think you’re the best,” Ryan continues, and he’s looking right at Shane, colour high on his cheeks, his hair sticking up weirdly from the water. “I think you should come over here and kiss me. If you want.”

And Shane does. He stands between Ryan’s knees, hands resting flat on Ryan’s thighs, and leans in. Ryan’s eyelashes flutter in what must be an intentionally attractive way, just inches from Shane’s; they’re at the same height like this. Shane can’t help himself. “How’s it feel?”

They’re intimately close, breathing each other’s breath. Ryan’s eyes spring open, suddenly suspicious. “What?”

“Being on my level.”

Ryan holds his deadpan for roughly three seconds. “Oh my _god_ you fucking – shut up, Shane.” And he grabs Shane’s face to help him along.

 

*

 

Some time later, Shane realizes that when it started doesn’t matter much anymore.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] it started like this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806902) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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